Bring Me to Life
by Rebellwithoutacause
Summary: When Horatio gets a phone call about a disturbance in a rural area, he thinks it'll just be a poke around and that's it. When he uncovers evidence that says a teenage girl is being abused, will he be to late to save her? COMPLETE
1. Suspicion

**_First chaptered fic for CSI: Miami. Go easy on me because these characters are some of the hardest I've ever had to write with. I'm not sure how far I'll go with this, depends on how many reviews I get. Anyways, I'll add the disclaimer here, I don't own anything, except for a few made-up charries that will come along shortly. Thanks and enjoy!_**

Scuffed shoes crunched on gravel dirt as Horatio Caine climbed out of his car. Eyes, so rarely seen without sunglasses, scanned the area. There was an aura about this place that already had the tips of his fingers tingling. The peacefulness of it belied what he could already sense.

On the left side of the road was a long sloping field, grass turned gold in the evening sun, waving in the little wind. It was lined with a white fence, and a ditch that marked the edge of the road. Though it didn't look it from this angle, Horatio could tell that grass was at least four feet tall.

On the right side, after the near five foot drop that made the ditch was a copse of trees and thick undergrowth, all taken over by cudzoo. Telephone wires stretched over the teen feet wide space of untamed plant life. On either side of the copse were more fields of grass. Houses stood off into the distance, silhouetted in the setting sunlight. Behind them, he could see tall ears of corn slowly waving in the breeze.

The rural areas of Miami were less familiar to Horatio than the city, but it didn't change his purpose. Whenever a call came in, he had to answer, regardless of where.

At the sound of more gravel crunching, he turned around to see the vehicles of Calleigh and Eric pull up. Both climbed out and started to walk towards him.

"What was this all about, Horatio?" Calleigh asked, her sweet voice echoing over the still air.

"A call came in saying that strange noises and disturbances had been happening several nights in a row." He tilted his head to the house on the right of the cudzoo mess. "That is apparently the suspected house in question."

The three walked a few paces back down the road, walked across a small land bridge, and started up the grassy hill. Horatio looked towards the house and felt a small chill go up and down his spine. Something just didn't feel right.

As they approached the house, a large black and tan hound dog raced from the field and began to bark at the three CSIs. Calleigh gave a little jump in surprise, but Horatio respectfully ignored her startled expression.

The dog continued to bay and bark as the three approached the house. They were about to climb onto the front porch when a man dressed in torn jeans and a near filthy T-shirt came out.

"Shut the hell up, mangy dog!" the man yelled at the still barking animal.

Upon seeing the CSI's he ran a hand through his thinning sandy brown hair and stepped off the front porch.

"What are you doing on my property?" he sneered towards Eric, the tallest of them, and whom he assumed was the head of group.

"We," Horatio said calmly, "got a call about a disturbance at your residence." All three of them flashed their badges, and Horatio discreetly put a hand on his gun.

"Who called?" the man demanded to know.

"It's not important who called, but it might be relevant to get your name, sir," Horatio said. To the man, his voice registered nothing but calm curiosity, but Eric and Calleigh both could sense he was growing irritated.

"My names John Grant," the man said, his unshaven face turning towards Horatio. A bubbling dislike seeped within Horatio's veins, but for the time being, he'd ignore it. But the man's hard eyes did nothing to ease his disposition.

"All of this your property?" Eric asked, waving a hand towards the land around him.

"Yeah, the Clark's own all that land down that way." Grant indicated by pointing towards the next house's field and large yard in front of it.

"Alright, mind if we take a look around?" Calleigh asked, batting her blue eyes and laying on her sweet Southern charm.

Grant's eyes hardened, but with a somewhat stern look from Horatio he relented. "Fine, go ahead, just don't touch nothin'!" he yelled at the officer's retreating backs.

"What do you make out of him?" Calleigh asked Eric softly, but it was Horatio that answered.

"Watch your step. If he lets his dog run loose, I wouldn't be surprised if he's got a loaded gun somewhere around here."

Eric and Calleigh headed up towards the house, but Horatio wasn't interested in the near decrepit building. The caller had said that he'd seen two people struggling on the ground behind the house once, and then he'd heard smashing glass the next night within the house. Not all that descriptive, but it did seem unusual.

The ginger headed man passed the house by and slowly crept around to the back. The grass was much less green here, and looked like something had recently torn it up, revealing the dust earth beneath. About fifteen feet away, the corn field started. But twenty feet to either side, the ground was littered with trash and other worn down objects. A dog chain was tied to a post near the back porch, whose wood was fragmented. The base looked like it had been kicked in one place.

"Who are you!"

Horatio whipped around, but soon let his held breath out. The person who'd shouted was a teenage girl, thin, with dirty blond hair, and a dust covered face as if she'd recently been rolling in the dirt. Hazel eyes burned brightly from inside hallowed eye sockets. Her nails were chipped and filthy, and her bare feet looked like they were used to walking without shoes.

"Lieutenant Horatio Caine," the man said, pulling out his badge and showing her briefly.

"Horatio. Like the guy from Hamlet? Only one out of the main characters to survive in the play."

The man's eyebrows went up briefly, and he tilted his head towards her. "Yeah, like that," he said quietly. Apparently they weren't completely white trash if she knew about Shakespeare.

But as Horatio more fully took in her appearance, he noted she had bruises all across her arms, and one eye looked like it was healing from being blacked. White scars went across her wrists. And her cut off shorts revealed that she had bruises on her inner thighs, and fresh cuts down towards her shins. Her knees looked badly bruised, as if she'd been shoved to the ground.

"What's your name?" he asked, trying to ignore the squeezing rising in his chest.

"Charlie," she muttered, folding her thin arms across her chest.

"And how did you get all cut up?" he inquired, keeping his voice soft.

"Wrestling with the dogs. They don't know any better than not to bite," she said with a small shrug. But he could see a grimace flit across her face, and there was something other than casual observant hidden in her hazel eyes.

"I see," Horatio said with a nod. "Mind if I step inside?" he asked, indicating to the back door.

"Dad won't like it. I wouldn't be surprised if he tries to throw you out in a few minutes. He doesn't like cops," she added a small glare thrown his way.

"How old are you, Charlie?" he asked.

"Fifteen," she said, sweeping her ragged blond hair out of her face. It revealed to Horatio pretty bad bruising across her neck, and some old scars along her jaw bone.

"Does your dad have a history of being violent?" he questioned.

Charlie shrugged. "He's not here often enough for me to tell you that," she muttered.

Horatio nodded and slowly approached her. He withheld the look of pity for her state before walking past her and into the house.

The back door led to a very small, and very filthy kitchen. Grime had settled onto the dishes that were carelessly piled into the sink. What looked like the remnants of porcelain appeared to be smashed near the cabinets under the sink. There, Horatio found Eric slowly looking through the broken shards. And there was an overwhelming smell of alcohol on the air.

"Find anything?" Horatio asked, stooping down to be eye level with him.

"Some of the shards had a crust on them. Could be blood," he said, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

"Anyone else in the house?" the red-head inquired.

"Yeah, Grant's wife, Calleigh's talking to her right now.

"Have you seen Charlie?" Horatio asked quietly as Eric picked a few of the crusted pieces up off the floor and slipped them into a small plastic bag. He didn't have a lot of supplies with him, as it technically wasn't a search warrant they were here on.

"If you mean the near emaciated teenager, yes. I saw her briefly before she darted out the back door."

"She didn't seem like your average daddy's princess did she?" Horatio muttered, almost to himself.

Eric shook his head and Horatio left him to continue to pick through the shards. The red head slowly walked around the rickety kitchen table, through the door way and followed the sound of voices into what appeared to be the living room.

Horatio slowly leaned against the door frame and observed Calleigh talking with a tall woman with thick brown hair and an almost too thin frame.

"Ah, Horatio, this is Shanna Grant, Mrs. Grant, this is Horatio Caine, head of our CSI lab."

The woman whipped around to view the new officer. Her skin was near deathly white, the lenses on her glasses dirty, and the coldest green eyes Horatio had ever seen. Long fingered hands traced up and down her folded arms.

"Whish I could say it was a pleasure," Mrs. Grant said coldly. She turned back to Calleigh and sneered at her.

"If you have no business but snooping around our house, I would appreciate it if you left."

"Ah, ma'am, we can't do that until we've thoroughly checked everything out and make sure everything's all right."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Shanna snapped at Horatio.

"Your daughter seems to be a rough and tumble girl, which I find surprising for a fifteen year old only forty five minutes away from Miami." He said calmly, but as with John Grant, Calleigh could feel her friend was getting annoyed.

"Charlie's my step daughter," Shanna said matter of factly. She gave a little sniff of contempt and continued. "And she's a wild hooligan if I ever met one. It took a lot to straighten her up when I first moved in here."

"What was she doing wrong?" Calleigh asked.

"She'd sneak off at night and run wild in the city, getting rides from boys, partying and dancing all night long. She's come home drunk more than once, let me tell you!"

"Really?" Horatio pressed. "And how exactly did you, ah, straighten her up?"

"You'd have to talk to John about that. I tried and couldn't handle her." She said, giving another little sniff.

"How did you try?" Calleigh persisted.

"I tried lecturing, I tried yelling, I tried grounding, I tried to keep her on restrictions, but she went out of her way to defy me. I finally gave up on trying and gave it over to John."

"Does she still party?" Horatio's question was not sharp, but Calleigh could feel, more than hear its undertones.

"I think so, but she's to sneaky to give any sign of it. About a week ago, I thought I heard her climb in through a window."

Calleigh's eyebrows went up, but she didn't speak on it.

"Ok, thank you Mrs. Grant, if we need anything else, we'll be in touch." Horatio flashed his 'oh yeah, we'll be in touch all right' smirk and walked out, Calleigh just behind him.

"What do you make of it?" Calleigh asked quietly as they approached Eric who was just getting to his feet.

"Everybody knows more than they let on, starting with John," Horatio said firmly. "But they won't say a word. Calleigh, you stay here and try to talk to Charlie, see if you can get her to change her story. She said those bites and bruises came from wrestling with the dogs, but I don't believe her. Eric, come with me, we're going to the house next door, see what they know about Charlie's behavior, and how it was 'handled."

Eric nodded and followed Horatio out the door, but he could tell that the man was quickly getting livid. As they stepped back onto the grass, Horatio spotted a flash of dirty blond hair darting around the corner of the house.

"Sounds like Charlie isn't keen on talking," Eric observed.

Horatio slowly pulled his shades from his pocket. "Then its our job to find out why," he murmured before slipping his glasses on.

Eric knew the tone. Horatio was on the hunt now, and just like a wolf chasing its prey, he'd keep going until they found out what was going on here. Eric gave a small shake of his head and a sigh. He could almost feel sorry for Horatio, if it wasn't for his relentless ruthlessness. And those glasses went on because Eric needed the man needed a shield. So no one would see the emotions that he just couldn't hide.

"Do you think the father hit her?" Eric asked him softly as the started walking back towards the road.

"He'd best hope not."

Eric would have cringed. It wasn't pain hiding behind those shades now. It was anger, only barely reined in. Eric knew, beyond a shout of a doubt, this wasn't one of those that was going to blow over smoothly. And he feared for the day the storm broke. Because when it did, there would be no mercy.


	2. Worst Nightmare

**_Ok, another installment. There's probably only going to be four, maybe five chapters to this tale, because its more like a 'short story' but not short enough to be a one-shot or a two shot. Hope you enjoy it at any rate. _**

"Charlie, why don't you tell me how you came by those injuries," Calleigh asked calmly. She noticed the girl walked with a slight limp and she moved with stiffness.

"Like I told that Horatio guy, I was wrestling with the dogs and it got out of hand."

"Yeah, you gave that same story to him, and he didn't believe it any more than I do. So, can we get to the truth?" Calleigh asked, cocking her head and folding her arms across her chest. But she noted carefully the bruising the teenager's flesh showed. She wasn't blind, but she wished Alex were here. She'd know within an instant what had caused those, even though the female CSI had a pretty good idea.

Charlie glared at Calleigh with menacing eyes. "Just get out of here and leave us alone!" she spat. Her tone was full of malice, but the CSI didn't miss the tremble in her lip, or the slight shaking of her hands.

"What's going on, Charlie?" Calleigh asked gently. "Anything you tell me I wouldn't tell anybody else."

"Liar!" Charlie snapped. "You'd go off and tell Horatio and the rest of the cops, and then you'd bring them all down here, and then who the hell knows what will happen! Just get out of here and everything'll be fine!" She seemed to be trying to convince herself as much as Calleigh.

"What would happen?" Calleigh pressed, feeling her heart pound.

But at that point, the teenager whirled around and fled. Back around the house and pelting down the long green yard. Calleigh gave chase briefly, but by the time she was half dawn down the yard, Charlie was crossing the ditch and pelting up the road where she rounded the bend and vanished.

"Great," Calleigh muttered, pushing long locks of hair out of her face. "Best find Horatio and Eric, tell them what happened."

At that particular point, Horatio and Eric stood the kitchen of the Clarks having already determined that they were the one's who'd called in Horatio was determined to find out everything that they knew.

"What made you finally decide to call?" Eric asked surveying the middle age couple carefully.

"We'd heard noises and saw what looked like scuffling going on in the back yard. We thought it was the dog's fighting, but I heard a girl scream. I put it out of my mind, until the next night, the same thing happened again, except for longer, that's when I decided to call." Mrs. Clark's voice was almost shaking, and her face was very pale.

Horatio's blue eyes narrowed. He felt his pulse throb harshly, but nothing came onto his face.

"Did you see anything for sure that would indicate foul play?"

"No," Mr. Clark answered. "But we know for sure John drinks, far more than he should. And I've seen that teenager of his intoxicated once or twice. Stumbled onto our front lawn, thinking it was her house."

"But the night before you called, you didn't see anything conclusive?"

"No," he answered with a sigh. "But the noises were enough to send chills up my spine."

Just at that moment, Calleigh walked in. Horatio turned to face her, and by the look in her eye, knew something wasn't right.

"Get anything useful?" he asked quietly.

"Girl wouldn't budge, not until she ran off at least."

"Charlie's run away before," Mrs. Clark put in. "Usually she just hides in a field and comes back in the dead of night. We've found her sneaking around in our corn."

Eric nodded and turned towards the two CSIs. "So, what do we do?"

"Without conclusive evidence, there isn't anything we can do." Calleigh's reply was filled with depression.

"You don't count those bruises conclusive?" Horatio demanded.

"If she won't tell us more, then there isn't anything we can do, H." Using his nickname, Calleigh hoped to calm him. But all she saw in his eyes was barely bridled anger.

The ginger haired man turned on his heel, pushed past his colleagues and stalked away. As he came outside, he slipped on his shades.

Eric turned to the Clarks. "Excuse him," he murmured. "He doesn't take lack of action well."

Mr. Clark nodded. "Good luck with whatever you're doing," he called as the CSI's walked out.

As Calleigh and Eric left side by side, the blond girl sighed.

"Sometimes I wonder if our system is really worth the hell we go through to defend and use it."

"It's a lot better than others, trust me," Eric said in a convincing voice.

"But its not good enough," Horatio's voice was cold and brittle. Eric counted himself lucky that the man had his shades on. He didn't want to look into blue eyes that were more frigid than ice.

"What now?" Calleigh asked softly.

"We go back to Miami and pursue whatever fate drops into our laps," Horatio answered her. The way he said it made shivers creep up Calleigh's back.

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Charlie's pounding feet were bruised and bleeding, and her very bones ached from running so long, but what choice did she have? She couldn't go back home. Not till the steam blew over. Fear kept her going, fear kept her body moving.

"Damn them!" she hissed, not to loudly, in case someone was listening.

She finally collapsed onto the ground into a crumpled heap. The high grass hid her well enough, and she let tears stream down her face. She knew what was waiting for her if she went back now. But she didn't have anywhere else to go. It was to far to Miami tonight. She was too tired, and she didn't trust some random creep driving across the road to take her and let her go safely.

But, then again, nothing safe was waiting for her back at the house. It wasn't her home. To her, she had no home, and that house was hell, its front door its gate. She hated it with every fiber of her being, but she had no where to go to escape it. She'd already tried running away before, and she'd been met with no success. They always took her back.

She shuddered at the awful memories. For as long as she could remember, her father had cut her down verbally and emotionally for years now, but recently, it had turned into something worse. Much worse. Ever since that god awful woman who was now his wife came into the picture, everything had gone from bad to worse.

It had not been immediate, the affect that Shanna had, had on her father. It had been gradual and a lengthy process, but over time, she'd changed him. Worn his patience and tolerance down to nothing. Cost him all his money, and driving him to drink.

Charlie hated them both with a fiery vengeance she'd love to wreck on them. She hated Shanna for changing her father, and she hated her father for what he did to her. The man wouldn't take his frustrations out on his wife, so he beat up the only thing smaller and weaker than she was. His daughter.

She hadn't told Horatio the truth, nor his partner, because she knew exactly what would happen. By the time they came back, her bruises would have healed, along with her cuts, and he'd actually feed her for a change, so it appeared everything was fine. He'd only keep it up till the cops were satisfied, then, once they were gone, hell would break out. The teenager was convinced that she wouldn't make it out of that house alive if the police tried to investigate her father.

It wasn't as bad during the school year, because Charlie was able to stay away from the house for more hours of the day. And generally, when she came home, her father was passed out in his chair, and she was able to skirt her step mother. But, during the summer vacation, like now, life was nearly unbearable.

At first, partying and getting drunk were her escape. But when things had gone to far one night, she knew she couldn't do that anymore. It was getting to close for comfort with her father finding out about what was going on. But she guessed it hadn't ended soon enough, because about a week ago, he'd caught her sneaking into the house, and proceeded to beat her violently. And it hadn't stopped. Now he did it because he was either drunk, or he just thought it was fun to hear her scream and cry. Charlie didn't know, and she didn't care.

She slowly picked herself up, feeling the temperature drop. Even in this place, you didn't want to be without a shelter to go to. Biting insects were murder, along with a slight chill, and the occasional dog or drunk red neck running wild around here.

She wrapped her arms around herself and slowly walked towards the house. Her entire body trembled and she tried to mentally brace for what she would find inside. Trying to stop herself from shaking, she approached the house slowly.

With her head down, she cautiously entered, and seeing no one, she relaxed briefly. She planned on stealing a little bit of food, and then retiring to her room where she hoped she could sleep till dawn, and then escape outside again.

She'd taken two steps past the back door when a hand lunged out and grabbed her throat. She tried to scream, but the squeezing hand was lung crushing. She tore at it with her hands and tried to pry the fingers off, but she didn't have the strength.

"Who did you tell?!" her father demanded, hissing in her ear. "Who!?"

"Didn't…say…anything!" Charlie choked, trying to use her ragged nails to scratch her father's hand off her throat.

"Liar! Why else would the police have come snooping around?" With a heaving force, he slung her into the ground.

With a yelp, she went skidding across the tiled kitchen floor, banging her shoulder, and her back as she collided with the kitchen table's legs.

Her father advanced on her crumpled form, and he lifted a foot to kick her. Charlie screamed as the foot hit her ribs, causing a wave of agonizing pain.

"Please!" she moaned. "I didn't say a word!"

She wrapped her arms over her head, trying to defend herself against the unyielding blows.

"Teach you to talk again!" her farther roared, reaching down and picking her up by the throat.

He started to drag her towards the back door, when Charlie began to struggle in earnest. "Please!" she wailed as she was thrown outside and the door slammed behind her father. "No!"

Her father was beyond all comprehension now. The dog chain lay beside Charlie not three feet away. The girl tried to get up and run, but she wasn't fast enough, and her father gave her a kick in the crook of her legs. She collapsed, and he bound her hands with the chain.

"No!" Charlie wailed. She did everything she knew to defend herself. She thrashed her legs, digging with her toe nails when she could, trying to reach his face. If she could just get her hands free… she'd be able to tear a piece of his face off when he came close enough.

But it was to naught. Charlie screamed and lashed, cried and begged, but it still happened. She could only whimper after screaming herself hoarse. Pinned down against a man twice her size, she had no chance of avoiding one of the most traumatizing events anyone could ever experience.

When Grant finally sat up, Charlie was lying extremely still. It was a technique she'd used before. When all else fails, play dead, maybe he'll quit. She scarcely let her chest move to breathe. He rolled off her and spat in the dirt beside her head before stalking back into the house, leaving her lying there.

When she heard the back door slam, she started to cry. Whimpering and sobbing, she curled herself into a ball and moaned heavily in pain. For a space of about ten minutes, she wondered if her father's beating was severe enough to actually kill her.

"Just like he did you, Mom," she whimpered.

The teenager fought for consciousness, but in the end, it cost her too much strength. She lapsed into blackness that wiped away all the pain.


	3. Wounded Souls

**_Ok, chapter number three! Probably only one more, maybe two after this, so please review! And thank you so much to everyone who did, you make writing worth its time and energy. The muse has your indefinete thanks! Enjoy!_**

Three days had passed sine Horatio and the crew had traveled off the beaten path, and the image of the teenage girl hadn't faded from his mind. It haunted his dreams, and the feeling that those hazel eyes were watching him chilled his blood.

But he hadn't left her without help. Discreetly, he'd placed his card on a small wooden table as he'd finished talking with Mrs. Grant. If Charlie found it and asked his help, then he'd have every right to remove her from that place. But so far, his phone had remained silent.

Surprising to him, no new cases had come in, at least to him. Speed and Eric were handling a robbery gone bad. When Horatio had asked if they needed help, Eric laughed and told him he had everything under control. H, sensing the fact Eric was looking for a chance to work without his boss over his shoulder, left him too it.

Without anything to do and having a nagging sensation in the pit of his stomach, Horatio climbed into his car. Gunning the engine, he started up road, but soon turned on the highway that would take him to the address of the Grant's.

"See if things improved because we showed up," he murmured himself. Rolling his window down, he let the warm breeze blow into his car.

The drive was quiet, but as he slowly started to approach the Grant's property he swore he could smell blood. The more he convinced himself it was a trick, the more he could feel his heart pound. He quickly parked the car, climbed out, and started up the front lawn.

Every step felt to slow, and he wanted to hurry, but decided against it. Full blown charge wasn't the way to go. Knowing Charlie would probably be outside, he ducked the house's windows and stole around back. What he saw made his stomach lurch.

Blood was still spattered on the ground, dirt was kicked up, and the remnants of what looked liked denim shorts were lying in tatters, ripped down the zipper into nearly two pieces. A fight for sure had happened here, but where was Charlie?

Making sure his gun was loose in its holster, and loaded, Horatio climbed the two steps onto the porch and tried the handle to the door. Locked. Damnit.

Horatio didn't want to be charged with breaking an entry unless he had a reason. The blood and shorts was enough to convince him, but if he kicked the door in, he could be arrested. And that wouldn't do anybody good.

Figuring if he couldn't get in the back, he'd try the front. Not bothering to try and duck this time, he jogged to the front, but he was met with a whirlwind of long hair and deathly pale skin. Shanna had smacked straight into him.

"What's going on?" he asked as he set her back on her feet.

"If you knew what was good for, you'd get the hell out of here!" she gasped. "Don't go in there, don't!"

"Where's Charlie?" he demanded before Shanna could run past him. He noticed car keys in her hand and he saw a parked car a little bit ahead of his.

"Where do you think?" she spat before she shoved past him and ran for the car.

Front door wide open, Horatio bounded up the porch and burst into the house. The hall ways were dark and dusty, and a stench of liquor filled the air. His ears detected a small, whimpering sound. Fearing the worst, he followed the noise to a locked door.

This time, he held nothing back. His foot easily demolished the lock, and he rushed into the room. What he saw made anger worse than anything he'd ever known flare into his chest.

Naked, and bleeding, Charlie lay beneath her father. Her entire body was a crossing of red lines, made from a knife lying near Grant's fist. The man's arm was pinned across Charlie's throat, and Horatio could see she was beginning to suffocate. Her hazel eyes were glassy, and she lay in a small pool of blood.

A cry of anger tore itself from Horatio's throat and he landed a fist into his face. It knocked him backward off of Charlie, who gave a cry of intense pain. Feeling it stab him as if he had been the one to hurt, Horatio landed another blow to Grant's face.

"Son of a bitch!" Horatio snarled reaching for his gun.

Grant was faster by a fraction of a second, and he landed his own fist into Horatio's gut. The cop stumbled, feeling the air crushed out of him. Gasping, he tried again to go for his gun, but doubled over, Grant gained the advantage and grabbed his knife.

The will to live surged into Horatio's veins. He dove at Grant, ducking his head under his arms as the man slashed his blade. Horatio hissed in pain as it met his arm, tearing a gash into the flesh. Ignoring the burning sensation, the CSI used his position and slammed his arm into Grant's, forcing it backward, and to drop the knife. A fist was thrown into Horatio's face, hitting his jaw, almost making him see stars. But he wouldn't let himself be dazed again. He grabbed Grant's arm and slung him around towards the door of the room.

Grant's eyes were alive with pure rage. But Horatio's desire to protect was stronger than his enemy's body. Grant dove for his knife once more, and Horatio pulled his gun. He fired shot after shot, trying to empty his gun into the pedophile. One bullet had met flesh, and Grant howled with pain. Blood began to spill from his leg where the lead had struck him.

Horatio didn't have time to fire again. Grant had disappeared, and shortly after, he heard the door slam. Horatio decided not to follow him. Ripping his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed for an ambulance and back up cops before he dropped down to knees beside Charlie.

He whipped off his outer coat and slowly wrapped her in it. She moaned and fell limp into his arms. Blood soon began to soak the cloth, and Horatio's upper body as he lifted her off the floor and into his lap.

"Stay with me, Charlie," he whispered, seeing her eyes continue to glaze over.

Gently as he could, he tried to feel her body over, wondering if she had any major wounds. He didn't find any, but she had so many small gashes, it looked like she'd been beaten with a whip.

She gave a coughing sound, blood frothing at her lips. He could feel a trembling hand scrabbling at the cuff of his sleeve, trying to grab him.

"I'm here," he whispered, supporting her head and neck.

"Thank you." The words were filled with a watery sound, as if she was speaking through liquid. The assumption was enough to nearly terrify Horatio.

She lost all strength and collapsed against the CSI. Horatio feared the worst. He put his ear to her chest and could still faintly hear her beating heart. His own had been shaking badly, but now it quieted a little bit. Unconsciousness might be better for her. She wouldn't feel the pain.

Ten minutes later, Horatio could hear ambulance sirens. Relief started to wash over him. He convinced himself everything would be alright. It had to be. He wouldn't have failed this poor girl. She wouldn't die in his arms.

Over and over again this is what he told himself. His body felt numb, but as Calleigh and Eric knelt down next to him what felt like ice water rushed into his blood.

"Where's Grant?" Eric asked quietly.

"Gone," Horatio managed to say. He explained the fight that had happened, and how he'd tried to empty his gun into him, but that Grant had fled before he could.

"You got a nasty gash, H, come see the EMTs," Calleigh said. It was only as she'd mentioned it that Horatio remembered the wound the knife had inflicted. And it began to burn again, badly. But he didn't release Charlie to inspect it.

No sooner than Horatio was about to ask where the EMTs were, they came into the room, wheeling a gurney. Horatio lifted Charlie onto the gurney and tried to smooth her hair back as they wheeled her away.

"I guess you were right, Horatio," Calleigh said quietly.

Horatio was about to run a hand through his hair when he realized his palm was soaked in blood. He shook his head and said sadly, "Looks like we have another crime scene."

"She isn't dead yet, H," Eric reminded him.

"Might as well be," he replied coldly before leaving the room.

Calleigh and Eric followed him outside and stood by him as he watched Charlie loaded into the ambulance. As she was taken away in one, the EMTs of the second approached the three CSIs.

"Mind coming over to the truck?" one asked Horatio, seeing the blood running down his arm.

"In a minute," he said, waving them off. He turned to Eric and Calleigh.

"Get a few people to start canvassing the area, look for Grant, or any sign of where he's been. The bloody bastard isn't getting away with this."

"How would we find him?"

"Look for someone who's got a bullet in his leg and two black eyes, and a broken jaw." Horatio said with a brittle tone before turning back to the EMT.

"Sounds like you hurt him bad," Eric said quietly.

With his hand still in the palm of the EMT, Horatio turned back around. "That isn't half of what he deserves."

Eric wasn't totally shocked by Horatio's demeanor. Those who worked with him knew that he reserved a particular wrath to those that would harm children. But it didn't stop his blood from running cold in his veins.

Eric and Calleigh walked away to do as Horatio asked, and the ginger haired CSI turned back to the EMT. "What's the status of the girl?" he asked.

"Didn't catch much, but she didn't look like she was in life threatening condition. If you want, we'll give you a lift to the hospital. I suppose you'll want to question her when she wakes up."

Horatio was slightly distracted. The wind was waving the tall grass around back and forth, and as he watched it, he was reminded about how circumstances could swing from bad, to worse, to better, and back again within the blink of an eye. He watched, trying to convince himself he'd catch a flash of Grant.

"Lieutenant?" The EMT prompted gently.

Horatio turned back to the EMT. He was about to answer no, when he caught sight of Calleigh and Eric talking with the back up cops. He had to trust his team would handle this. He knew they had all the capabilities they'd need. He relinquished his longing to help them and nodded to the EMT.

Leaving the scene was one of the most painful things Horatio had ever done. He longed more than anything now to catch Grant. Only the knowledge he'd be able to talk to Charlie soon convinced him to leave.

The glare of lights in Miami signaled they were deep within the city's throbbing heart. Horatio knew, one by one, the lights would go, and in the darkness, blood would be spilled. And he'd be called to help them.

"How do you do it?" he asked the EMT quietly.

"Same as you," he answered quietly. "We ignore the emotions and do what we have to do."

Horatio's heart was filled with sadness to hear his reply, because he knew it was true. He couldn't let himself get attached to his cases. But how could he not with this girl? He'd fought to save her life. Were he and his team the only people who had a vested interested in keeping her alive?

"Least someone does," he murmured too quietly for the EMT to here.

Pulling up to the hospital, it was already dark. The glaring lights were a comforting illuminator. Horatio climbed out of the ambulance, his newly bandaged arm feeling stiff, but in considerably less pain. The EMT had told him the gash from the knife would leave a permanent scar. His knuckles were also bruised, and his jaw was tender, but other than that, he was no worse for wear.

His footsteps were neither fast nor slow, but determined as he followed the EMTs into the large, brick building. But all the while as he walked, he felt his mind warring with his heart.

_Don't get attached, Horatio. There's not a lot of your soul left to give to this business. And you don't need to be giving it to people who you may very well never see again._

That was his mind. His mind warned of heartache and tried to shield him from it. But what use was it? You had to be cold as Grant to ignore the pull of your heartstrings as you looked at someone like Charlie, and the state she was in. And even still, as his dusty shoes crossed the linoleum floors of the ER, his mind was trying to push his heart back down. He felt memories welling up inside. Try as he might to block them out, he couldn't stop the flood.

Mentally, he bit down hard and wrench his brain under control. Using every ounce of will power he possessed, he shoved the memories away. His father was long dead, his mother also. And what had been done to him was over. It was in his past now.

But a small part of him wondered if using the depths of his past was the way to help Charlie. Her situation was not much different than his. Except he had not been alone. His brother had suffered with him, and Horatio had taken it upon himself to care for him. Just to keep himself from going insane, he focused on helping Raymond.

And it was all for naught. His brother was dead now as well. The woman Horatio had loved was also gone. Everybody he held dear was gone. Everybody except his friends, and his work. And he knew, beyond a shout of a doubt, he'd die for his friends. There was no questioning there. How much of his soul was left after them? And where would it go? Scattered amongst thousands of cases? Or would a little more go to this one girl who was so like him, and yet so foreign.

The EMT led him into a very small, dimly lighted room. In fact, it was lighted by only the monitors, a small lamp, and the light that streamed in through the window. Carefully, Horatio twisted the knob and let himself inside, thanking his guide as he left.

Knees bent towards her chest, arms held against her body, and hands draped against the blankets, Charlie lay small and pitifully in her bed. Her dirty blond hair was scattered everywhere across her pillow. One eye was completely swollen close, the other was voluntarily shut, do to the fact she was sleeping.

Two chairs were beside the bed. One was pulled up right next to it, the other was further away. Horatio set himself into this one and proceeded to watch Charlie, his unwavering gaze traveling all across her broken body.

"Poor, poor girl," he murmured.

His voice must have woken her, for she jerked awake. Hazel eyes shot open, darted all around the room before settling firmly onto Horatio.

"Do you remember me, Charlie?" he asked her quietly. From the looks of it, she'd taken a bad beating to the skull. He wouldn't be surprised if she didn't.

To his shock, she very slowly nodded her head, as if the motion made her dizzy. "You're Horatio. You're the one that saved me."

He gave a small smile. "Yes," he answered gently.

She gave a small, contented sigh and relaxed into the mattress of the bed. But the eye he could see was relaxed.

"Looks like you put up quite a fight," Horatio said giving a small nod.

Charlie's contented look faded away. It was replaced with the thick emotions of fear and rage, but much more of the latter.

"It wasn't enough," she growled, her voice rasping from both lack of use except to scream.

"It was better than letting him hurt you willingly."

"What would you know about it?" she snapped at him. "For all you or I know, if I had just yielded, maybe it wouldn't have hurt me so bad."

"No, Charlie. Physical pain will eventually fade in time. Shame very rarely ever will. I would know."

"I'd like to believe you, but not enough's time gone by to know for sure."

Horatio felt the grating of her tone like sandpaper to his skin, but he knew she was defending herself. He had said and done some of the very same things she was doing now.

"At least you know that there was nothing different you could have done to try and prevent him."

She shook her head and laughed ruefully. "If I had just never existed, none of this would have happened. He hates me. He's always hated me."

"Why?"

"Because. When he was finished raping my mother, she had no where else to go when she found out she was going to have me. She begged and groveled, and he finally took her in. When I was about six or seven, my father beat my mother to death after she demanded he treat me and her better. I never saw it happen, and he never told me, but I heard screaming, and the entire back yard reeked of blood. I think he buried her near, or under the porch, because grass never grows there anymore."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" the CSI asked in a somewhat shocked voice.

"You're not a fool, Horatio. What do you think would have happened? Besides, who would have believed a kid who didn't even see the crime happen."

Horatio slowly nodded with a sigh. He let his head hang, but quickly, he raised it again. "What I want to know is why you're telling me this, Charlie," he asked.

Charlie looked at him as if he should have known the answer. "You saved my life. I owe you that for what you've done for me."

"It's never an I owe you in my business, Charlie. I do what I do to help, not because I expect anything. If I had, had that mindset, I'd of never become a CSI. There's only one thing that this job gives you."

"What's that?" she asked, her voice curious.

"Satisfaction. The satisfaction of watching a criminal brought down, and the victims avenged. And I'll see you through to the end of this."

Her eyes widened in fear. "Don't do that to yourself, Horatio. He'll kill you if you try. I'm not kidding. He's killed my mother, he's tried to kill me, and he'll kill you if he gets the chance."

"There's very little I let slide Charlie. And one thing I'd never let go is someone like you being hurt in that way. I'd never be able to live with myself if I wrote you off and filed away your case."

"Why not? What makes you different from thousands of other people?"

Horatio was surprised at the bluntness the girl exhibited. Surprised, pleased, and frustrated in equal measure.

"Because I know," he whispered quietly, having to use all his will to keep his voice steady. "I know what it's like to be ignored and left on your own. I know what its like to scream in the dark, and no one care."

He gave her a small smile, and tilted his head slowly to give her a small nod. "You get some sleep now." He told her gently.

"Where are you going?" Charlie asked, her voice colored in fear as Horatio rose from the chair.

"To finish what I started," he said. He managed to say it without a snarl for her sake. But somehow, he didn't think she'd of minded if he hadn't.


	4. Runaways

**_Alright, I'm not telling you if this is the last chapter or not, you'll just have to read and find out. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please review! Thank you all who have done so already, you make writing a joy rather than a task! THANK YOU!! Ok, now to the chapter..._**

Charlie's dreams were fraught with nightmares. She'd doze off, dream of horrors, wake in a slick, cold sweat. But she never screamed. She was beyond screaming. But her face was stained with tears. Not even for so much of reliving the pain, but for waking up all alone in the dark.

Despite the fact she knew where she was, she felt a constricting sense of fear. That her father would burst in upon her, and there would be no one to save her this time. It was a terrible sense of fright that put her on a hyper vigilant state.

Frightened, restless, and unsure of what to do, Charlie slowly rose from her bed. Her body was stiff and sore, and she could barely walk. Taking a deep breath, she sat back down, fisting her hands into the sheet. Her fingers trembled as she did so, but her mind whirled, trying to come up with a plan.

"I can't stay here," she told herself. "He knows that's where they would have brought me. And he'll be after me for sure now. Horatio tried to kill him, and its my fault. He'll come after me, then him."

Charlie bit her lip. She could either hide herself, disappear, and hope to god her father never found her. But she didn't trust that. Where would she go? She couldn't live hiding. There just wasn't any way to do that. She had no one to take her in.

She thought briefly of Shanna, but dismissed the idea. She hated that woman. She'd fled, and left her to die at her father's hands. How would she find her anyways?

One thing was for certain, she had to get out of here. Quickly. Again, she slowly set her feet onto the floor and tried to walk. Not to much pain. She tried circling the room a few times, and caught site of herself in a mirror.

Even in the hospital gown, she could see she had scars, many that wouldn't fade. Some of the most prominent were on her upper chest, but her face too, was marked. From this encounter, she had a scar running down the left side of her face, up towards her eye, but thankfully, not on it. Her dirty blond hair was a ragged mess, scraggly, and thin.

She laughed ruefully, trying to choke back tears. Who'd want her? No one. What did she have to offer? Nothing. Bitterness and pain welled up within her heart, and she struggled to keep from crying.

She shook her head and turned back to the bed. She dropped to her knees, looking for her clothes under it. All she found was a large, dark colored coat. Then she remembered. She'd been naked when she was brought in, that had been wrapped around her.

Horatio.

The CSI who'd done so much for her, fought for her life, and saved her from her father. The consequences of that began to pour into Charlie's mind. Grant would want her and him both dead. To erase any evidence, any trace, any witness. Charlie could have screamed with frustration. The one man she thought could help her was out of her reach because of what he knew. If she tried to find him, ask his help, her father would come for them both.

"But would he really be able to hurt him?" she asked herself.

She took another look at herself in the mirror and sighed. First it had been just yelling. Then he'd smacked her. Then he'd punched her. And eventually, it'd spilled over to raping her. Last night, he'd tried to kill her. Things could go from bad to worse within the blink of an eye.

No. She wouldn't risk Horatio's life for herself. He had his work to do, and that meant too much to her to make him risk his life just to try to help her. It wasn't like she was going to make it far anyways. All she needed to do was get out of Miami. Get out of Florida. And then, maybe, she could start life somewhere else. How, she didn't know. But she'd have to deal with that when it came.

She dropped back down on her knees to look under the bed again; hoping clothes for her might have been put there. Nothing. She couldn't try to run away in this. Charlie stood back up and thought for a moment. Surely there had to be clothes her size somewhere in this hospital.

She walked to the door, and very slowly, cracked it open. The hall way was brightly lit, and the floors were polished squeaky clean. Occasionally, a nurse or other staff would walk by, usually with a clip board in their hands.

Continuing to watch, Charlie at last saw someone carrying a bundle of clothing. It was all mismatched, most of it dirty, but it would be good enough.

Waiting until the nurse carrying the clothes had walked by, Charlie carefully slipped out the door. She didn't bother closing it. It would make to much noise. Creeping slowly, she followed the nurse down the hall and to the right where the woman entered a small, closet like room. Charlie watched, behind the corner as the nurse came out of the closet without the clothes. Figuring it was some kind of storage place, the teenager waited until the nurse was gone before scurrying into the room.

It was dark, and Charlie had to fumble for a while before she found a light switch. As the room was illuminated, she saw several bins, all full of clothes.

She hurriedly began to dig through the bins, searching. All it had to be was mobile. After a few minutes, she found a pair of dark blue jeans that looked about her size. Slinging those over her shoulders, she continued to search.

Another three minutes turned up a black T-shirt. Satisfied, Charlie ducked behind one of the bins and dressed. When she was finished, she noticed the paper wrist band around her arm, marking that she was a patient of the hospital.

"Not anymore," she growled.

She ripped the band off her wrist and tossed it on the ground. She was about to walk out of the room when she remembered she was barefoot. She couldn't go tearing through the city without shoes. She knew too well concrete was unforgiving.

She dug through the bins continually, finding a pair of less than clean socks. Not happy, but shrugging it off, she pulled them on, and resumed looking for shoes.

After a few more minutes of frustrated searching, she threw up her hands and gave up. That was until she spotted the shelf rimming the small room. Shoes rested on it, pairs neatly lined up.

"Must not have wanted them in with the clothes," Charlie said to herself.

The teenager dug around, looking for a pair her size. When she located one, she was happy to observe that the sneakers were in somewhat good condition. Slipping into them, she tied them securely to her feet before heading for the door.

Making sure no one was watching, Charlie ducked out and scurried down the hall. What was the best way to get out of here without getting noticed? She spotted two elevators. Nope. Too many people used them, and besides, she was sure to be spotted if she went out the front door. Ambulance bay exit? Nah, what happens if some EMT saw her? Then it came to her. Parking garage. A sign near the elevator said 'in case of fire, use stairs.' Who'd use the stairs at this time of night?

Charlie rushed through the hall way, hoping not to be seen and opened the hall's end doorway, which led to a very long stairwell. Deciding it was in her best interest to go down, she started heading that way.

Two flights down, Charlie came to a door. Cautiously, she opened it. The smell of motor oil and hot, humid air greeted her.

She ducked out into the parking garage. Streetlights cast an unearthly orange hue across the concrete. Beginning to jog, Charlie followed the sloping paths, ducking behind parked cars when she heard a moving one approach.

She was faced with a toll booth and two security guards stopping her from getting out of the garage. Disappointed, Charlie wondered if they were actually doing there job. A five minute observation told her they certainly were.

She noticed cracked concrete beneath her feet. It was breaking off into small, fist size pieces. One of the oldest ideas of distractions in history came to mind. She picked up a hunk of the rock and threw it as far as she could in the opposite direction she wanted to go. With regret, she heard the smashing of glass.

Ducking behind another car, Charlie watched as both guards come out from their booths, fingering flashlights.

"Whose there?" one demanded.

Annoyed and feeling desperate, Charlie picked up another rock and chucked it as far as she could in the same direction. This time, it bounced off a bit of the concrete wall on the opposite side, near the same car she'd already hit.

"Damn teenagers," one of the guards muttered to his partner. "Dropping rocks now. See, this is why I hate the night shift."

His buddy agreed with him, and they started towards where Charlie had thrown both rocks. Once they were about ten feet past, Charlie slunk between guards towards their booths.

She was about to run past when she saw a wad of cash sitting on the desk. She snatched it up and stuffed it into her pocket. She'd need it later, for sure. Checking to make sure the guards were still investigating her distraction, she ducked out of the booth, ran out of the garage, turned right, and headed up the street into the waiting arms of the sizzling Miami night.

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Frustrated and angry, Horatio slowly headed back towards the vehicles. A five mile circle search had turned up no evidence of anything except that Grant had jumped into a truck and fled.

"We'll find him, H; we've already told highway patrol to keep their eyes open for him." Calleigh's reply was gentle and understanding, but Horatio had lost patience. Not with her, or his team, but himself.

"We've got no plates, no description of the vehicles, nothing but tire tread, and a vanished rapist."

"And that's not all."

Horatio spun around to find himself looking Frank Tripp. Having a 'what could happen now?' feeling in his stomach, Horatio met the cop's eyes.

"Your girl's done run, Horatio," Frank said heavily. "Word got around to me, and I figured I'd see if they had a rape kit done on her. Thought you'd want the DNA. She left the hospital before they had the chance."

"What do you mean, left?" Horatio demanded, fear beginning to soak heart.

"Up and vanished. No sign of a fight or struggle, but they found this." He held up a torn and mangled wrist band, issued to all admin patients at the hospital.

"Damnit, Charlie!" Horatio cursed under his breath. With his best piece of evidence gone, their chance of finding Grant was whittled down to almost zero.

As much as he was frustrated by the fact that she'd run, he knew why she had. Charlie saw through the steps of situations. She knew what would happen. She was a witness to a crime that could put Grant behind bars for a very long time. She knew he'd go looking for her. So she left, hoping to disappear before he found her.

"What now, Horatio?" Eric asked. "With Charlie gone, Grant on the loose, we don't have much."

"Both need to be found, ASAP. Grant will do one of two things. He'll be a coward and run, or he'll go looking for the only witness to his crimes."

"Charlie's not the only witness, Horatio," Calleigh murmured softly. "You saw him too."

For that statement to be given to most people, they would have been frightened. For Horatio, it gave him a dangerous thrill. A clever, yet malicious feeling was rising in his chest.

"Let him find me," he said softly. "He'll run straight towards me, and he'll find himself looking down the muzzle of my gun."

Horatio quickly gave orders for all exits to Miami to be monitored. They couldn't let Grant get away. If he did take to his coward roots, Horatio knew they had to snag him before he got far. With as much as could be done concerning Grant finished, he now had his mind free to focus on Charlie.

"Frank," he said, turning towards the man. "Did anyone see Charlie run?"

"Probably, but I wouldn't know who. Security guards, staff, someone had to. Hospital's not exactly a quiet place."

With his mind going at a rapid pace, Horatio turned back to Tripp. "Frank, if you will, help the officers try and find Grant along the highways. If he's fleeing the city, he won't be doing the speed limit."

Frank nodded and started to walk towards the other officers who were scattered in various places across the property.

Horatio turned to Calleigh and Eric. Looking into their eyes steadily, he said calmly, "I appreciate everything you've done. It's been a long night, but its going to be even longer. Eric, I need you with me. I have a hunch Grant's not leaving till he destroys the evidence Charlie holds. If we find her with him, we need firepower."

Calleigh was about to protest when Horatio looked fondly her way. "I know you are just as good with a gun as any man, Calleigh, but Grant shows no discrimination, and I refuse to put two of my best CSIs in harms way. Keep your phone on and open though, because if we find Charlie, or Grant, we might need you as back up. If you can think of anything else that needs to be done…"

"I'm on it, H." Calleigh said, giving a short nod and a smile.

"Thank you." Calleigh headed towards her car, and Horatio turned to Eric.

"So, where to?"

"The hospital. Last place she was seen."

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Charlie's feet pummeled the concrete side walks. She was tired, and her body pleaded for her to stop, but she didn't dare. Not now.

She was heading towards the bus station. The money she'd stolen from the guard would hopefully be enough to buy her a ticket towards the border of Florida. She cursed the money lusting world for its high prices. She'd probably only be able to afford one ticket, and she didn't know how far that would take her. For certain, she had to get out of Miami, but she wanted to go further than that. But how would she make money once what she had stolen was spent?

She didn't want to risk stealing again. She knew she'd be caught, and if she was caught, all her effort would have been for nothing. Faced with questions she couldn't answer, and a growing fear of the darkness, she kept going.

Briefly, she thought of trying to hitch a ride with someone, or stowing away in a car. But if they found her, what would they do? She dismissed the idea. She kept on going, crossing yet another street and heading further along the concrete.

The glare of the city lights was fading into the hues of the orange lamp lights, and all around her, pockets of shadows seemed to leap out and try to snatch her. Terrified of being alone, and yet, still even more frightened of being found, Charlie kept running,

She still had another mile and a half or so from the bus station when she finally collapsed against the side of a brick building. Her side was cramping badly, part it from the beating her ribs had taken. The sickly hot air seemed like it was trying to choke her as she gasped in breath after breath. Sweat poured down her face, neck, and back. Her feet felt like they were broken and bleeding.

She told herself she'd sit here and rest, just for a second. Just till most of the pains stopped, then she'd keep going. She'd keep running.

Was that what her life was going to be about now? Always running? Always looking over her shoulder? Never having a moment's peace? What kind of life was that? Was that kind of existence even worth having?

She looked over to the road that she had been running beside. Every now and again, a car would come by, whizzing along with a roar and a blare of lights. Certainly fast enough to kill if you were hit.

"Stop it Charlie!" she growled to herself. "Any life is better than not having one. Stop telling yourself lies!"

She pushed herself up to her feet with a grunt and started running again. Moving kept her mind occupied. While she was moving, she could focus on her destination, and the pains that came with getting there. It'd keep her brain off of the unthinkable.

Tiredness seeped into her body faster this time. But she kept going. She knew her life could very well depend upon her escaping, so she kept going. She knew her father. He'd come after her. If just for the sheer thrill of the hunt. But so much more than that, was the elimination of what she knew. Without her, no one could touch him, so long as he got away, and he'd make sure of that. With no one to scream for help, he'd slip off and disappear.

This knowledge and its surfacing into her mind made Charlie's legs pump even faster. She ran and ran, even though her ribs felt like they were being split open with a knife, and her muscles had the sensations that they were being stretched on a pulley and never released.

The station wasn't far now, just a block or so. But the traffic on the street she had to cross was too thick. And she knew the cops would have spies everywhere looking for her. There was another way to go, through a hidden ally way.

She stopped running and doubled over, trying to catch her breath. She put a hand onto her side, trying to rub away the cramp.

She'd just started to stand back up she saw shoes. Her heart pounded. She stood up fully, and looked into Grant's face. And she was looking down the muzzle of a gun.


	5. Fight for the Right

**_Ok, for all those who read, thank you. For those who reviewed THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm stressting this because I'm not getting as many reviews as I would like. If this is on a reflection on the quality of the writing, you need to let me know... via a review. Anyways, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!! _**

Horatio's phone buzzed inside his pocket. He'd just finished talking to the security guards that had been apparently fooled by Charlie's trick, and also ripped off. He smiled at her cleverness, but so many more pressing matters wiped it off his face. But when he felt his pocket begin to vibrate, he answered the phone.

"Horatio!" A frightened voice came onto the line.

"Charlie!" Horatio's heart felt a wave of relief. Now that he had her on the phone he could find her. Find her, and then he didn't know what, because another voice came on the line.

"Hello, Caine," Grant's sneering drawl just made Horatio want to gag.

"What do you want, Grant?"

But it wasn't him that answered. It was Charlie. "We're at the bus station, left side alley way," was all she said, but Horatio could here the trembling in her voice, as if she longed to say more, but didn't dare.

"What's happening, Charlie?" He whispered into the phone, hoping he wouldn't tip Grant off.

The phone was jerked from Charlie, and Grant came back on. "I don't know why you think its worth your time to save her, but if you want her alive, you'll meet me at the location she gave you. And you'll come alone, Caine."

"What do you want, Grant?" Horatio spat into the phone.

"A free ride out of here. No cops chasing me, no tracers, no spies following me. I want a safe passage out of this country and into Mexico. You have the power to give that to me, don't you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a silky whisper.

"What do I get back?" Horatio asked. He played along with Grant, but he knew he'd die before he let that man escape to Mexico.

"You get Charlie. But why you want her, I don't know. Unless its for reasons you and I can take advantage of. I don't see that pretty blondie of yours coming to get her."

Rage boiled through Horatio's veins. It slammed through his body, making his heartbeat roar inside his ears, but when Grant spoke again, everything else cleared.

"If you want to make the exchange, here's what you do. You come alone, park the car half a block and come on foot. And if I even see a gun, a radio, a cell phone, or even your badge, I open fire, got me? You use my phone to tell your people to back off and let me out, and then you get the girl. Got it? Meet me here in five minutes, and if you don't, me and the girly are catching a ride."

The phone line went dead, and Horatio's face lost all its color.

"What happened?" Eric asked.

"Grant has Charlie. He's holding her hostage near the bus station." He quickly gave him the terms Grant had said to meet on.

"Are you going to go through with this madness, H? Let a negotiator and SWATT handle this. He'll shoot you on sight!"

"He said for me to come alone, and no one else."

"Exactly! So he can shoot you, snatch the girl, and leave you to die with no help!"

"Did I say that I was going to follow all his terms?" Horatio's eyes glinted with a steely light. "When we ditch the car, get around to the back of alley, vault the wall and stay hidden till I give the signal. If he shoots, open fire. Kill him if you have to, but I would prefer him alive."

Eric nodded Horatio dialed his phone again.

"Horatio?" It was Calleigh's sweet voice on the line.

"Calleigh, get me SWATT, a helicopter, an ambulance, and as many back up cops as you can find. Grant has taken Charlie hostage. He demands that I meet him alone and that he'll give me Charlie in exchange that he has free and safe passage to Mexico." He quickly gave her the location, but specified for them to be half a block away. Grant couldn't know that he had back up coming.

"You know that sounds like he's going to take you hostage too, Horatio," Calleigh's voice was clearly worried.

"I know, but don't worry, Calleigh, I have Eric with me, he's going to be ready in case anything happens."

"Please, Horatio, be careful. Please," she pleaded. "Don't go in there alone."

"I have to give every impression that I am alone. Grant will lord my apparent helplessness over my head, and when he gives me the phone to tell the cops to back off, that's que to go in and grab him."

"I trust you, Horatio. But not Grant."

"I don't either, but this girl's life is at stake, and I promised her I would see her through until she was safe."

"At the risk of your own?"

"I keep my promises Calleigh. I'll be fine." He hung up the phone and nodded towards Eric.

"You ready for this?" he asked him as he parked the car and stripped himself of all banned objects.

"Its now or never at all, H."

Horatio smiled when he saw Eric's eyes. They weren't frightened. In them held only calm determination and the will to succeed. That's exactly what he wanted to see, and what he knew any of his CSI's would look like in the face of danger.

The two split up, Eric running faster down to the end of the corner and vanishing out of sight. Horatio jogged quickly towards alley, praying with all his might Charlie wasn't hurt.

As he rounded the corner, he saw her crumpled form huddling against the brick wall. She looked beaten and battered, but the look in her eye radiated defeat. Until she saw him. And then, it glowed with fear.

"Horatio! You shouldn't have come here! Get out now, while you have a chance!"

"Shut up, stupid girl!" Grant's snarl was enough to make anger seethe in Horatio's veins.

The man stepped out of the shadows and into the orange street light. He held a small, black gun, capable probably of firing twelve shots quickly. Not good odds. But Horatio didn't hold up his hands in surrender, merely kept them on his hips and turned to his normal side ways stance.

Grant leveled the gun at Horatio's chest. The CSI's heart thumped hard against his ribs, but he ignored his fear.

"I didn't think you'd show," Grant sneered. "Figured you'd try and ambush me once I got out."

"Unlike you, I'm not a coward," Horatio growled. "Now, give me the girl, and the phone."

"Oh, no, Caine, I don't trust you that much." Grant approached him, and holding him at gun point, kicked him to the ground.

Horatio fell, but more willingly then from the pain. He knew Grant could have just ordered him to get down, but he wanted to hurt him. H knew that. So he'd play along. Play up to the man's bloated ego. He pretended to groan with pain when Grant's knee was pressed into his back to keep him down while he was searched.

"You're either very brave or very stupid, Caine," Grant drawled as he let Horatio back up to his feet.

"So are you," Horatio managed, spitting dirt out of his mouth. But as he spoke, his eyes darted all along the alley, looking for any sign of Eric. The tiniest movement would be enough to confirm for H that he was there. The shadows were thick, but there was more than one place Eric could hide. Horatio put his trust he was there, watching, waiting.

"Ah, but unlike either of those choices, I'm smarter than all of you," Grant sneered. "I outwitted you, Caine, something very few do, I here."

"No, Grant, you didn't out wit me," Horatio said calmly, a laughing smirk on his face. "You took advantage of a real man's heart."

"Either way, I'm the one with the gun, the girl, and your life in the palm of my hand."

"You think so?" Horatio asked. "Don't see me cowering now, do you?"

"Let's see if Horatio really came alone, hmm? Let's see about that."

Grant slowly turned around towards the back of the alley and cocked his gun. He fired twice before Horatio could move fast enough to dive at Grant, tackling him on his back.

"Run Charlie, run!" he yelled before all was lost in a sea of clothes, fists, and blinding anger.

Both men were wrestling for the gun, but after about ten seconds, Grant was merely fighting just to try and hurt Horatio. He pinned the CSI down, backhanded him across the face, and put an arm over his mouth so he could not cry out. But Horatio defended himself. The arm that cut off his breathing, he sank his teeth into, as much as it disgusted him.

Grant howled with pain and released the CSI. Horatio was able to kick him twice to get him clear before he lunged for the gun. But he and Grant's hand landed on it at the same time. They struggled and fought for it, when Horatio heard four shots.

Grant's eyes went wide as two bullets it him in the chest. But before H could react, the man used him as a human shield, and the second two slammed straight into Horatio's back.

Blinding, fiery pain surged straight through Horatio's body. He fell back, giving a deadened moan. Blood was beginning to pool around him. His blood; warm and reeking of defeat.

Grant struggled up to his feet. He easily took the gun out of Horatio's palm and leveled it at his chest. Horatio stared up into the eyes of his enemy, feeling consciousness slip in and out. He watched a blood stained finger beginning to tighten on the trigger.

"NO!"

A whirling blend of hair and limbs slammed into Grant. Horatio, at first, thought it was Calleigh, come to rescue him. But then he recognized the burning hazel eyes that he could just glimpse. Charlie!

Charlie knocked Grant to the ground, and let loose all her pain and hatred at him as they struggled. Grant still put up a fight, but not for long. The two bullets had done him some serious damage. Charlie snatched up the gun and fired it once. It hit Grant straight in the middle of his chest. The man fell back, motionless.

Charlie dropped the gun and ran to Horatio's side, falling to her knees beside him. Horatio needed to tell her to call for help. But his mouth was filled with blood, and that rendered speech impossible.

Charlie knew he was trying to speak, she could see it in the twitching of his face. She rolled him over none to gently and the blood drained from his mouth as he collapsed onto his back again. The pain was unbearable. If he had been able to, he would have screamed for the agony. It was blinding, nothing else mattered. All he wanted was to make the pain stop. Just make it end! Death, die, let him die! Anything to make it end!

"Phone, his phone!" Horatio managed to gasp when the blood drained from his mouth. A dim part of his mind knew that if he got help, the pain would end. It would have to. They'd be able to make it stop.

Charlie's eyes flashed in understanding, and she raced to snatch up the small cell phone. She dialed a number that Grant must have known, and faintly, he could hear her voice. But all to soon, everything was black. Everything faded into blackness. No sound, no light, nothing. Just sheer crushing darkness that obliterated everything.

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When Horatio woke, gleaming bright lights surrounded him. He felt very stiff, extremely sore, and his brain felt like it was waterlogged. He didn't know where he was, or how he'd gotten there. He tried to remember what had happened, but couldn't.

But then he heard voices. Voices… they sounded familiar. But he couldn't pick them out of the many sounds that now seemed to circulate around his mind.

"H! Horatio! Wake up, sleepy!"

That voice. So familiar. One thought was slowly processed after another till finally, Horatio remembered who it was. Charlie!

His eyes fluttered open, just enough to catch a glimpse of her before they collapsed shut again. Using all his effort, he opened them up again.

"Where am I?" he managed to rasp. But his throat and mouth felt like a desert.

"Hospital. Back up wasn't far away" There were tears in her eyes.

"What happened?" he managed, though talking seemed to tear his vocal cords in half.

"When you and Grant started to fight, Eric opened fired. Two hit you in the back. The other two hit my father."

"Grant… where is he?" Horatio demanded, trying to sit up, but his back screamed in agony.

"He's alive, but barely. Doctors won't tell me if he'll live or not."

He tried to ask another question, but Charlie shook her head. "Just let me explain." She gently pushed on his shoulder, to force him back to the bed he was lying on.

Horatio settled back down and listened as she began to speak.

"You told me to run, so I did, but when I heard shots, I came back. I didn't know who'd been hit, if anyone. I saw you on the ground, my father standing over you. I'd thought you were dead…" she stifled a sob for a minute before she continued, shaking her head fiercely.

"I fought with my father till I was able to get his gun. I shot at him till he fell; I don't remember much about what happened during that time. I came to you, and you told me to get his phone. I did, and I called the number he found on your card. It alerted the back up you had brought."

"When the lights from the helicopter came on, they found Eric. He'd been shot in the shoulder by one of my father's bullets. That's why he wasn't able to fire until a few seconds later. He's doing fine now, said he wants to see you when you wake up."

"It was his bullets that hit you." Charlie said quietly. "Straight to your back."

A thousand thoughts blazed into Horatio's mind. He could be permanently paralyzed. His heart began to race, but Charlie spoke again.

"The doctors did surgery on you for a while. Some of your vertebrae were shattered, but they repaired the damage. They said you'll regain full function within a week or so."

Horatio breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "What about Grant?"

"I don't know much, like I said, they wouldn't tell me. He's being held in the locked down part of the hospital. If he dies, well, only what he deserves. If he lives…"

"If he lives, he'll stand trial, and he'll be put exactly where he belongs, and for the rest of his life."

Charlie laughed cruelly. "They can't give a life sentence on a rape," she said bitterly.

"Ah, but you are a child, Charlie, and you have told me that he murdered your mother, and he has twice now raped you, and twice has attempted to murder officers. Those are by no means light charges. None of them. He'll be put exactly where he needs to be."

"What happens if he's acquitted?"

"He won't be. The wounds he gave you, me, and Eric are more than plenty to prove what he's done."

"Even if he is put away, I don't have anywhere to go. Nowhere. I've got no family. Both sets of my grandparents are dead. My mother had no siblings that I know of, and neither did my father."

"There is foster care till a more permanent solution can be reached."

"Great, so they can pass me around, hoping I can get picked up by someone so I'm out of there hair? I'm fifteen, Horatio. Fifteen with little schooling, and no skills to offer. It's not like I'm an adorable little kid who's parents loved me and tragically had to give me up. Who's going to want me?"

"Me." Was the answer he gave. "I went through hell to save your life. And I'd do it again."

"You have too big a heart for this business, Horatio," was Charlie's quiet answer. "You'll break it eventually."

"I think I did," he said quietly. "But you made it beat again."

"What life is there for me now, Horatio? Getting passed around till I'm eighteen?"

Her head hung, and her hair tumbled around her face. Ignoring the pain, Horatio hauled himself up into a sitting position. He gently used two fingers under her chin to lift her eyes to his own.

"Let me try to phrase this in a way you'll understand. You saved my life, Charlie. Do you think I would forget that? No matter what it is you need, I'll give it to you. And not just because you saved me."

"Why else? Why are you so different from thousands of others?" she asked.

"Because unlike most people, I have a heart. A heart that still beats. Thanks to you."


	6. Stormy Love

**_Surprise! Not done with the story yet! I probably should have given you a head's up that I wasn't, but I didn't think it would take me this long to get an update finished! Sorry for that! Anyways, THANK YOU ALL for the reviews. It really makes me feel loved, and it shows you like the story enough to take time to review it. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ok, here's the next chapter. _**

A week and a half after being gunned down, Horatio walked out of the hospital, free of crutches. Physical therapy during his stay had given him full function of his body back, something which he was whole heartedly grateful for.

The members of his team had taken there turns to visit and sit by him while he was bed ridden. Eric had seemed especially guilty. He knew it was his bullets that had wounded his boss. But Horatio waved away his apologies.

"I'd of been dead without you. You disabled Grant enough to let Charlie finish the job."

Eric's own bullet wound had been minor, but enough to slow him down. But, he was back at work, processing more evidence from the scenes. They were preparing to go full throttle with the evidence.

The prosecutors had told them that Grant could get the needle if the jury deemed it. Horatio would do everything in his power to make sure that happened. The man deserved to die.

The doctors had been able to repair his internal injuries, and with time, he'd heal completely. He didn't deserve the painkillers they gave him. He was still in the hospital, and Horatio had every intention of speaking with him one last time, before he saw him in court that was.

After passing through security, Horatio approached the man's bed. He was handcuffed to its railing, but in any case, he wouldn't have had the strength to move. He was still heavily bandaged, but he was free to talk, which he did quite often.

"Well, well, well, how does it feel, Caine? Looking down at me like I looked down at you."

"On the contrary, Grant, I'm not looking down on you like you looked down at me. When you looked at me, you wanted me dead, and you were going to finish it. I might want you dead, but I'll let the jury decide your fate."

"To squeamish to do it yourself?" Grant chuckled softly.

Hatred boiled up over into Horatio's veins, but his voice was still calm, with an icy sheen to it. "Oh no, Grant. I'll make sure you get the needle. And I'll be there when you do."

"Oh buzz off, old man, they won't convict me."

"Why's that?" Horatio questioned.

"Your star witness wouldn't ever get up there and say a word. Cause' she's smart. I got contacts, man, contacts that can do her in way before they even set a trial date. And if you try and make her, hmm, we'll see what happens."

Horatio would have loved to hit him, but decided against it. Instead, he leaned very close to Grant and hissed, "If any one affiliated with you lays a finger on her, I'll have them all put in jail, and stay there till they rot, and you, my friend, have already sealed your fate."

The CSI stood back up, and slipped his shades back on. He turned to go, and didn't stop walking, not even when Grant called out again.

"Go ahead, hide behind those shades of yours, run away, Horatio. Run away."

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Charlie was waiting for Horatio at the hospital door. He'd told her that he was going to speak with her father one last time before he left. When she saw the man walking towards her, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Charlie," he said quietly. "I'm not sure if you had any ideas of where you're going to stay, but if you did, those plans might be about to change."

"Why? What happened?" her voice was tight with barely suppressed fear.

"I'll be straight with you," Horatio said quietly, removing his shades. "Your father has made threats against you, for being a witness. I can't force you to the stand, and I won't, but you being there would secure his guilty verdict for sure. But…."

"He's threatening to have me silenced before that can happen?" Her arms folded across her chest, and her hazel eyes went completely stone cold.

"How…?"

"He's done it before. Why do you think I didn't want you around the first time you came to the house. He would have thought I'd told someone, or called the cops. He thinks I'm a rat and a snitch."

"You're not a snitch, Charlie," Horatio said gently. He suddenly realized the extent of the damage Grant had done this poor girl. Something had warped her mind and sense of self being that had ripped apart any confidence she ever had.

_Probably the murder of her mother, and everything else after it, _Horatio thought darkly. Charlie's voice stirred him from his thoughts.

"So, what is going to happen to me now? Witness Protection Program?"

"If you want, but I had a simpler solution," Horatio said, fingering his shades. "You stay with me until the end of the trial at the very least."

Charlie's eyes darkened as she pondered his statement. He could see wheels turning very rapidly inside her head. It was the thought process of someone far beyond her years, and it saddened Horatio.

"If you don't want to, other arrangements can be made, but this would be the easiest and one of the safest."

"What happens when you're on your job? Murders don't stop for me, Horatio," her tone was bitter, but not at him.

"My job stops until I have this man in jail, or waiting for a needle with his name on it, Charlie. I'm apart of this case much more than just a CSI investigating. He's also made me, and Eric as well, victims of his crimes. My job is putting this man where he needs to be. Others here in the lab can handle things while we prepare for trial."

Charlie gave no outward sign of acknowledgement, but Horatio peered into her eyes, and knew she was taking into account everything he had said. He could tell she was tossing it around in her mind, weighing the good and the bad. In the end, she looked deep into his eyes, with such a convicting gaze; Horatio felt his heart give a shudder.

"I will stay with you," she said at last. "Because I trust you. You and no one else."

"No one else here would hurt you," he said quietly as he slowly started to walk out of the hospital, Charlie at his side.

"I know. But none would go so far to help me, no one but you."

Horatio smiled gently for her. Licking his dry lips, he turned to another subject.

"I didn't know if there was anything you wanted to take from the house, if so, we can go by, but if not, then we might as well get you settled into my apartment."

Charlie shook her head. "He gave me nothing I want back from there. I wish I could erase what I do have. Memories."

Horatio nodded in understanding. "Yes, I know what you mean." He started walking towards his Hummer, avoiding her gaze as he spoke again.

"Charlie," he started quietly, "I wanted to know if you had any more information about your mother's death. Or just about her in general. Anything could be useful," he added as they climbed into the car.

Horatio had already fired up the engine and had started pulling out of the hospital parking garage before Charlie spoke again. When she did, her voice told the CSI she was far away from the conversation, and back into her mind's eye.

"My mother's name was Jenny Walker. She wasn't a particularly beautiful woman, and not particularly bright, but she was strong of heart, and she had a gentle spirit. Not a bit of vice in her. I don't think her soul was capable of hatred. Pity yes, hatred no. I used to ask her 'how can you not be angry with him?' because he would hit her, and treat her so horribly. She would look at me and just say 'he doesn't understand what he's doing. He isn't in his right mind.'"

"She came back to my father because she had no where else to go. And for the life of me, she put up with everything he dished out. All his lies and cruelty, everything. Until he started yelling at me. Then she tried to get him to stop. But it was far too late for that. He was god over us, and he knew it, and he wasn't about to let a girl like Jenny take it from him."

"He hit me one night, and when Mom saw the marks, she demanded that he stop hurting me. I watched them fighting, screaming and yelling. I remember cowering behind the sofa, just wishing they would stop. I couldn't understand why they would do this. I just wanted them to stop. Then, I remember seeing my father grab her by the hair and drag her out the door. I was frozen stiff. I couldn't move, could barely breathe. I heard her screaming still, but after a time, it was silent. So silent. So eerie, I remember hoping, praying my mother would walk through the door and come and pick me up and take us away from the place. But I never saw her again, only my father, muddy, and the smell of blood on him. He didn't even see me as he walked past. Must have thought I was sleeping in my room."

Horatio listened to her speak, and all the while, his knuckles grew white from gripping the steering wheel so hard in anger. His own memories threatened him, but he pushed it away. Breathing deeply, he began to speak.

"He will pay for what he's done, Charlie. And he'll never hurt you again. I promise."

She looked at him, with hazel eyes that burned a hole straight through his shades and into his heart.

"At what cost, Horatio? I'm sick of all this pain. I can't stand it anymore. Sometimes, I wish… I wish he had killed me that night. And then all of this wouldn't be happening, and he wouldn't have been able to do to me what he has, and he wouldn't have hurt you, or anybody else because of me. All of this is because of me. Its my fault," she whispered.

Horatio had just pulled up into the parking of his apartment building. He got out and Charlie followed him, head hanging down. He brought her around to the front of his Hummer and put both hands on her shoulders. He forced her eyes up to his.

"Whatever he's done to you…" she turned her gaze away, trying to pull herself from his grasp.

"Listen to me, Charlie," Horatio said firmly, not letting her get away, though he could feel her trembling under his hands. She looked up to his eyes, her own shining with fear and tears.

"No matter what he's told you, what he's done, what you might think, nothing you did made this happen. Nothing. He did it because he wanted to, not because you made him angry by doing something wrong. He's a sick, twisted, monster and his actions had nothing to do with you."

"If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't have been hurt," she whispered.

Horatio let her go and rolled the sleeve of his shirt back. There on his arm was a long, only half healed scar from where Grant had sliced him with the knife.

"I'd take a hundred more, Charlie. Bullets, steel, it doesn't matter. Because you don't deserve what's been done to you."

"And you do?" her tone was bitter, but not at him.

"All I want to do is help you, Charlie. But you have to let me help you."

"Yeah, and helping me earned you that scar, and two bullets in your back."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about your heart. He ripped it to pieces. You have to let someone put them back together again. I can't do that if you won't let me touch them."

"My misery is not yours," Charlie said, pulling away again.

"It is so while I care about you, Charlie," Horatio said gently.

"Why do you care so much about me, Horatio? You risk your life for me. Why?"

"Charlie, the best kind of love is when you don't need a reason." His blue eyes were gentle, and a small smile showed itself on his face.

"Love?" she questioned. "You're saying you love me?"

"Love is something that doesn't need to be understood, Charlie. Its to powerful to understand. Like a hurricane. All you need to know what it does."

Charlie smiled. And when tears slipped out her eyes, they were happy tears. She hugged him tightly, happier than she'd ever been in her life.

Horatio stroked her hair and let her hang onto him as long as she needed to. When she did release him, he gave her a small nod. "Come on, home is waiting," he said with a smile.

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The next few days were some of the most paranoid Charlie had ever experienced. Even though she knew Horatio would do everything he could to make sure she was safe, fear instilled by her father kept her on hyper vigilance. Whenever the phone would ring, cell phone or not, she would start and refuse to speak until Horatio had hung up the phone. Whenever there was a knock on the door, or the door bell rang, Charlie took to her old habits and darted away into another room.

The mounting nervousness from the court date didn't help matters. They didn't have enough to charge Grant with the murder of her mother, but they did have enough to charge him with rape, and attempted murder of two officers.

The defense lawyers were countering that by trying to file charges against Charlie. They said she also should be accused of attempted murder of Grant because when she fired the bullet that had put him down had been fired after he had surrendered.

"I saw that he'd dropped the gun. I grabbed it and fired it before he could use it on me." That's the statement she gave to investigators.

To make matters worse, a low life bottom feeder Charlie hadn't liked from the instant she'd laid eyes on him named Rick Stelter had been paying Horatio visits. Something about how favoritism and illegal use of influence was being used to try and make the pending charges against Charlie go away.

After one such visit that Charlie hadn't been able to listen in on, Horatio had appeared extremely frustrated.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"The IBA is threatening to have me suspended for helping you," he muttered.

"What?" Charlie asked, outraged. "They can't do that, can they?"

"As a matter of fact, they can, because I threatened Grant they day I left the hospital."

Charlie bit her lip. "But that has nothing to do with helping me!" she countered.

"Well, no it doesn't, but it doesn't help the fact that I have been trying to get the defense attorney's to let you alone."

"What do you mean?"

"The DA is an inch away from filing charges on you for attempted murder of Grant. You shot him at point blank range. Technically, that is attempted murder."

"I was defending myself!" Charlie yelled. "He would have killed me, you, and Eric!"

"We know that, but what proof do we have to back that up? He had two bullets in his chest already, enough to knock almost anybody else unconscious. Its our word against his."

"He's a rapist!" Charlie yelled in outrage. "Would they really believe him over us?"

"Charlie, the situation is this. Stelter and the DA agreed that if we cut a deal with Grant and his lawyers, the charges against you would be dropped."

"No! What kind of sick scum do they think we are?"

"Charlie, listen to me!" Horatio's voice was nearly desperate. She collapsed onto the chair opposite of the couch he had just sat down on.

"If we cut a deal, we both avoid trial. He'll be given a sentence of three years hard labor, and we will avoid having to fight charges we won't win."

"So, what your telling me is that bastard is going to get away with what he did, going to avoid going to prison because I defended myself?" Charlie's tone was colder than a New York winter.

"Yes," Horatio whispered. "I hate it as much as you do, but there isn't anything we can do about it. They have us cornered."

She looked up to him and her eyes yielded up so much hatred and anger, he felt like they were daggers digging into his heart.

"Are you sure we can't win?"

"Medical examiners and other doctors already reviewed that you shot Grant, point blank range, when he was already loosing blood rapidly, and would have fallen within a matter of a minute anyways."

"I was trying to kill him," she hissed quietly. "I wanted him to die, to pay for what he'd done. I knew if I didn't, he'd come back to haunt me. And now he has."

"No, Charlie. He hasn't."

"Stop lying to me, Horatio! Yes he has! He'll get away, and then he'll be after me! And then you! Anyone who's wronged him will die at his hands! It'll be a blood trail longer than the Mississippi River!"

She leapt up from her seat. She stormed past him and jerked open the front door of the apartment. He pursued her, calling after her, "Charlie, wait!"

She slammed the door in his face, fled down the steps, and vanished into the heat of the Miami evening.


	7. It's Not Goodbye

**_Final Chapter!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _**

**_Figured I'd let you guys know that. Loud and clear. Final chapter! Alright, now that's out of the way, I'll actually let you read it... _**

The breath of the ocean was the only noise inside Charlie's ears, besides the calling of gulls and the wind in the palm trees. But even those were beginning to fade as she walked slowly down the beach, heading farther and farther away from the more populated areas of sand.

She hadn't meant to be so angry with Horatio. She knew it wasn't his fault. She knew that if he could, he'd kill Grant himself. But it didn't stop the wave of hatred and rage that threatened to overwhelm her self control.

She had to admire the man's cleverness. That wasn't what she had expected. She had expected him to go down in a hail of raging fury because he'd finally been found out. She hadn't expected him to come up with a way to weasel out of his punishments.

Three years hard labor. Hardly any compensation for what he'd done to her. He'd spend his days doing whatever it was they told him to do, and his nights in a sort of half way house that was minimally secured. People who had committed identify theft and fraud were sent there. Prison ought to be reserved for those like Grant.

The sand was warm against her feet and the ocean breeze tussled her long hair. She'd rolled her jeans up to her shins so she could walk in the lapping tongue of the ocean. The white frothy foam licked her ankles gently. The smell of salt and sand drifted to her nose.

This was paradise for most. She wondered what life was like for those whose parents loved them and took care of them. She briefly imagined coming down here with her non existent family, enjoying the evening sunlight and the sounds of the ocean.

That was all fantasy. Only a dream. A dream she couldn't have. She sighed, and thrust her hands into her pockets and kept walking.

She was coming to a rocky cove that was deeply shaded. The sand was cool here because the sun couldn't reach the ground because of the shielding rocks. Here, in this small cove, she collapsed down to the dry, white sand.

What would she do now? Would Grant come after her after his sentence was up? She had three years. Enough time to get settled down and comfortable in Miami, and then have that monster loose again. She was sure he wouldn't give up looking for her. There really was only one thing to do. But she didn't know if she could bare to do it.

She lay on the sand for a long time, watching the sky above the ocean as the sun set. The sky, so blue and clear before, now flamed colors of pink, gold, and deep orange. Fingers of sunlight stretched across the never ending canvass, as if trying to flee the hues of indigo and midnight blue that were rapidly darkening the sky.

Stars were slowly emerging. Tiny diamonds in the sky. Charlie briefly wondered if they were put there so those who couldn't afford the real jewel could see a mirror of the beauty. But these were better. There were thousands, and all free to see.

The alabaster moon rose above the ocean. Full and perfectly round, it gave the ocean water a silver sheen on the tips of the tiny cresting waves far beyond those that were beginning to break on the shore.

Charlie lay still on the sand, wondering if she should get up. She raised one knee but decided that she would rather stay here. Her thoughts drifted to Horatio. Would he be worried about her?

He acted like he would. Did he truly care about her, like the way he'd said? Charlie wanted to believe. And in a small corner of her heart, she did believe. She just didn't know what that meant. Love wasn't something she was familiar with, or what it could make people do.

Tiredness was seeping into her bones. She curled up in the sand and pressed herself to the dry rock face, stretching her head out on her arm for a pillow. It was actually comforting, feeling the sand around her, the ocean water gently lulling her to sleep.

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When Charlie hadn't returned to the apartment by nightfall, Horatio was beginning to feel concerned. He knew she wanted space, time to figure everything out. But it wasn't safe for anybody to be roaming Miami at night, especially a defenseless fifteen year old girl.

He left the apartment, keeping his cell phone on and in his pocket. Which way would she have gone? One thing he did know, he wouldn't need his Hummer. She wouldn't have been able to go that far on foot.

He had no trail to go on, only his gut instinct. He tried to think back when he was a kid, and he had run away from home. Where would he have gone?

"Some place no one would find me. Some place quiet where I could think."

That ruled out the city. Charlie had, had enough of the noise. That he was sure of. That left one option. The beach.

He started towards the beach, less than half a mile from his building. Walking quickly down the concrete path that snaked its way towards the ocean he began to have a sense of relief.

By the time he reached the sand he was sure he was in the right direction. He saw small flecks of sand that had been displaced from a footstep. The print itself was gone, but in the manner that they were scattered, it was consistent with a small foot moving steadily. He was sure she'd come this way.

He followed the beach's trail north. Soon, the lights of the city, and the noise, was far behind. He had moonlight to guide him, and he kept going, wondering how far Charlie would have gone.

Ten more minutes rewarded him with a rocky cove. He could only just barely hear the city's nightlife. In fact, the ocean drowned it out. The waves hitting the shore were the only sound he could hear.

He stepped into the cove, feeling the sand give way under his feet. It was loose and dry here, and, ten feet away, curled into the cove, was Charlie. Asleep.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Instinct had told him she'd be ok, but in the flesh, he felt better. He stepped forward and knelt down to her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Wake up, Charlie," he whispered.

Her eyes snapped open. They registered who he was and he heard her sigh.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" she asked. Her voice was soft, still thick with sleep.

"No, no I'm not mad," he said gently. "Come on, let's get you home."

He helped her up to her feet. She gripped his shoulder tightly for a few steps till she got her balance back. Pushing her hair out of her face, she looked towards him.

"What gave me away?" she asked.

"Not what gave you away. I just knew where to go."

"How?"

"Because you and I have a lot in common, Charlie. Much more than you realize."

Charlie swept her hair back behind her shoulders and thrust her hands into her pockets. She looked towards the ocean, watching the waves come steadily.

"They always come back to the shore," she said quietly.

"Yes, that they do," he said, starting to lead her back towards the trail that would take them back to the building.

"I'll always come back," she said gently before letting go of his hand and walking back into the building.

It was predawn when Charlie rose from her bed. She dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and her sneakers before pulling out a notebook and pen from the desk drawer beside the bed. Taking it with her, she slowly crept past Horatio's room before slipping out onto the balcony.

She sat down in the chair and held her knees up to her chest and began to write. She took her time, making pauses and thinking carefully before she continued. The handwriting was neat and smooth across the paper. When all was finished, she quickly tore it out of the notebook and set the pages onto the table, paper weighting it down the notebook and pen.

She crept back into the house and rifled in the closet till she found a large, green travel bag. In the main part, she put clothes that Horatio had been kind enough to buy her, along with a map she'd downloaded and printed off the internet just after Horatio had gone to bed.

She didn't bother with food. She still had the money from the security guard's that she'd stolen. And Horatio had left about thirty dollars on top of the washing machine, which she grabbed up and put with the rest inside the bag.

Satisfied, she swept a brush through her hair and very slowly unlocked the door. She didn't cry as she left and closed the door. Her heart was sad to see this go, but it wasn't forever.

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When Horatio woke, he had a sense something was wrong. Usually he could hear Charlie moving around. She was up to all hours, sleeping occasionally in between. But this morning, the house was dead silent.

He dressed and left his room, noting her door was open, something she never did. The bed was unmade and the covers thrown back. Her shoes were gone.

He walked back into the hall way. He noticed the money he left was gone. He'd soon learned that Charlie had a klepto habit. Any money he left around was gone. She'd give it back if he asked, but only if he asked. He'd learned that after he'd left a five dollar bill on the kitchen counter, turned around, and it was gone. When he asked Charlie if she'd seen what he did with it, she gave it back without a fuss.

The TV was off, and nothing in the kitchen had been disturbed. Odd. Generally if Charlie was up in the morning, she'd usually get herself something to eat and then curl up with the remote.

He did notice the balcony door was open. That was very strange. He knew for sure he had closed it before he went to bed. When he stepped outside, it was barren of Charlie. But he saw a piece of paper fluttering underneath a black notebook.

Removing its weights, he rapidly scanned his eyes over it. It was in Charlie's hand writing.

_Horatio,_

_I wish it didn't have to be this way. Know that my choice has nothing to do with anything you have done. Do not beat yourself up over this. This was my descion, and I will stick by it. It had nothing to do with you. _

_I decided to leave because while I know you could provide me with everything I need, there is one thing you can't do for me. There are things in my mind, and my heart, I need to sort out for myself. Try as you might, you're no mind reader, and these mysteries must be solved on my own. _

_I'll always be eternally grateful for what you've done for me. Never in a thousand years would I forget you. You've saved my life in more ways than one. You didn't just save me from my father. You saved my heart. You may not realize it, but you have helped to pick up the pieces. Now, I have to finish the job you started. I have to find what can make the pieces mesh together. But you picked them off the ground. I'll never forget that._

_Sometimes there is no official closure for cases like this. Maybe my father didn't get what he deserved, but its time to move beyond that. I need to seek my own closure. My own ending. Because of you, I can finally start rebuilding what my father broke. _

_This isn't goodbye, Horatio. This is… I'll see you around. You might not see me. But I'll see you. And I'll see behind those shades of yours. I'll know what it really is in your heart. Just like you know what's in mine. You were right yesterday. You and I are very much alike. _

_I want you to know that you'll always be in my thoughts. And if you ever need my help, just ask. How do you find me, you want to know? I'm not leaving a forwarding address, because I'm not sure where I'll be going. But one thing's for sure, I'll know when its time to come back. How, I don't know. Sometimes you just have to trust your heart._

_So, Horatio, just keep your eyes peeled. You'll see me, maybe sooner, maybe later. But you will see me again. Whatever I might become, whatever I might do with my life, always know, it was because of you. _

_I've never said this before, and the only thing I regret is not being able to say it to your face. But I knew if I tried, I'd of never been able to leave. And staying here with you isn't what I need right now. So, you'll just have to contend with this short, simple message in writing. _

_I love you, and I hope you know its sincere. I discovered something else about love. It makes people do crazy things. Maybe you think I'm crazy for leaving like this. But its out of love, Horatio. I'd be miserable if I stayed in Miami right now. But please believe me when I say, I love you._

_I'll let you go now, its getting light out, and I have my roads to take. Remember what I said in the beginning. This had nothing to do with you. This is because of me, and I am sorry for what pain it causes you. But I think you, out of all people, will know that sometimes the best thing for someone is to let them figure it out on their own. _

_I find it hard to close a message I already said I needed to. Maybe because I'm afraid of goodbyes. But, like I said, this isn't goodbye. I'll see you around, Horatio. I'll see you around. _

_Love,_

_Charlie_

Horatio sank into the chair. He wasn't so much stunned as he was disappointed. He'd had a feeling all along Charlie would want to leave. He just thought he'd be able to change her mind.

He held the letter in his hands, not sure whether to be upset, angry, or maybe even a tiny bit relieved. Charlie was going somewhere to figure out what she needed to understand. But he was scared for her. A fifteen year old girl like her out on her own like that? He shivered.

"She'll take care of herself," he said quietly. "This is her journey. She needs it."

He sat still for a long time, just gazing out to the waters. Faintly, he heard his alarm clock buzzing in the other room. Time to get ready for work. Heal and go on, heal and go on. Standing order for his job.

But he'd never forget. He'd never forget Charlie. Never. And, he was confident he'd see her again.

As he walked into the lab, he was met with Calleigh and Eric. They hadn't expected him in, so their eyes were concerned. In his hand, he held the letter.

"Where's Charlie?" Calleigh asked.

He handed her the letter, and she and Eric quickly read over it. Their eyes went wide as they looked back up at him.

"She didn't say where she was going?"

"No," Horatio said quietly. "Just only that she was."

"Do you want us to round up a search party? I doubt she could have made it out of Miami yet."

"No," he spoke firmly. "She needs this. Forcing her back here would make her bitter. She's healing now. I don't want to ruin that."

"You know how dangerous it is on the streets!" Eric said, his voice shocked. "And you're going to let her run?"

"She'll be alright, Eric," Horatio soothed. "She's not looking for trouble. And I really don't feel trouble is looking for her."

"Maybe, but I still say we should look for her."

"No," Horatio said shaking his head. "She'll come back to us."

"When?" Calleigh asked.

"All in good time," Horatio said, slipping on his shades. "All in good time."

**The End**

**_First off, I want to say what gave me the inspiration to write this fic. My second completed chaptered fic. It was half to challenge myself as a writer. Working with a character like Horatio is harder than you might expect! Lol... Anyways, and, also, because I wanted to see if I could make a story both believable without it being boring, or having a traditonal ending. Not that a good happy ending is anything bad, but I wanted to see what else I could do. The characters I used in this story fufilled what I wanted to acomplish, and now, I have to start the thank yous, because without these people, I could never have finished this story._**

**_Addie: I cannot thank you enough for the reviews you gave me. They kept me going when I was just about to give it up. And also the critics you offered beyond the site review box was extremely helpful. I know you'll always be there, whenever I need help. Thank you, so so much._**

**_Daxy: Reviewing so faithfully with praise and welcoming comments, it gave me the drive I needed to push through to the end._**

**_Quiz: You too faithfully reviewed, if not every chapter, then almost, and you were also the first reviewer, kudos to you! _**

**_lilmisChistian: You gave me encouragement where I didn't expect to find it. Thank you so much! And yes, I know you are also The Caged Sparrow, the same thank you is applied here._**

**_And to everyone else who reviewed THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Each and every review mattered to me, and I have never deleted them out of my e-mail inbox. And I never will. I value every word written and will always look back on them whenever I need encouragement. _**

**_So, I suppose its time to say goodbye to Horatio, Charlie, Grant, and the other characters of this tale. You never know what the muse may turn out with, so, who knows, maybe this really isn't the end. Like Charlie said,_**

**_"Just keep your eyes peeled."_**

**_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. I'll never be able to say it enough, so I guess I'll just wrap it up with a..._**

**_THANK YOU!_**


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